The Doctor And The Soldier
by Disastergirl
Summary: Dr Knox and Roy Mustang, throughout the years. As time goes by, the problems can't be fixed so easily any more.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This is just a quick thing I'm doing for mebh, because she is amazing (and also because she asked me to). It's a Five Times... One Time thing, which I never thought I'd do, but there you go. I've written most of the other chapters (except, amusingly, the one that'll come next) so hopefully this should get updated more rapidly than most of my fics. I still don't own FMA, by the way. _

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><p>"Doctor Charlie?"<p>

Knox looked up from his book as the plaintive voice broke through his concentration, a quavering note of hurt in its tone sparking his concern. He smiled at the young boy standing in front of him, grass stains on his shirt and mud on his shorts. Chris would be amused but Emilia would be furious.

"Yes, what is it, Roy? Don't you want to play with the other children anymore?" A frown crossed over the boy's face but he said nothing. What could be the matter with him? Was dealing with his own little boy going to be as difficult when he got to the same age? Knox tried again, doing his best to keep his voice free of the condescending tone that most children barely noticed but Roy hated. "I know you're sad that Elizabeth couldn't be here today, but her mummy's very ill right now. She'll be able to come next year, I'm sure. In the mean time, all of the children here are very friendly..."

"It's not _that," _Roy interrupted, his arms crossed and his face still painted in an impressive scowl. "I hurt my knee." He lifted up one leg of his corduroy shorts, displaying a large, angry scrape, speckled with dirt and tiny pieces of gravel. It certainly looked painful but the kid hardly seemed fazed by the injury. Still, Knox supposed, Roy was quite different from other boys his age.

"You hurt your knee? Why didn't you say so before, silly?" Roy shrugged and batted Knox' hand away as he reached down to ruffle the boy's hair. Knox put his book down and knelt on the grass next to Roy, examining the scrape more closely. It was quite shallow but needed to be cleaned out as soon as possible. Luckily, Chris had asked him to bring his first aid kit to the park. He guessed she knew far more about the carelessness of young boys than he did.

He got to his feet, taking Roy's tiny hand in his own. Roy looked up at him, a question in his eyes: _well, what are you going to do about it, then? _Knox smiled down at him, leading him towards the shade of the large oak tree where Chris sat, looking regal as she sipped on a glass of champagne. "Okay, Roy, first we need to get your cut cleaned up and then put a plaster on it. Then, once all the nasty stuff is out of the way, maybe we'll go see if we can find you an ice cream, if your auntie says that's alright. How does that sound?"

Roy grinned at him in reply, almost forgetting his injury as the promise of ice cream hurried his steps towards the tree. Once they were there, Knox sat Roy down on an abandoned deck chair, struggling to hide his smile as Chris scolded Roy for being so careless. Both the doctor and the boy could tell that there was no real anger behind her words but they played along anyway. Roy gave a quick hiss of pain as Knox cleaned out the scrape but made no other complaint. Knox hadn't treated children since he was a young intern at Central Hospital but he was sure they weren't all as easy to deal with. Knox stuck a plaster on Roy's knee, pretending to ignore Roy's hopeful, expectant smile as he packed away the medical kit.

Knox walked over to put the medical kit back, winking at Chris when Roy stared at him open mouthed, confusion and betrayal creasing his boyish features. As Knox began to walk away, Roy ran after him.

"Doctor Charlie! Doctor Charlie, you promised!" He caught up with the doctor, pulling at his jacket and it was all Knox could do not to laugh. He'd never known a kid who could frown so petulantly.

"Oh yes, Roy-boy? What exactly did I promise? You see, I don't remember saying anything at all..."

"You _said_ that after I got a plaster put on my knee I could..." Roy glanced back at his aunt, sudden nervousness painted across his face in comical stripes. His voice dropped to a whisper. "You said I could have an ice-cream!"

"Really? Did I now... well, I don't know about that." He turned back to Chris, pleased to see that she too was struggling to hold back her amusement. Knox knew that Chris was bemused by the unlikely friendship between the grouchy doctor and her little hellion of a nephew but that she was incredibly grateful for it. Even now, a year after his parent's death, there were still very few people Roy had managed to grow close to. "Let's ask your aunt, shall we? Do you think he can have an ice-cream, Chris?"

Chris pursed her lips, turning her head to the side and bringing her hand up to her chin in a pantomime of intense indecision. Knox thought that was over-playing it somewhat; Roy was only five but he was an intelligent kid; he would surely be able to see through such a transparent ruse.

"Well... alright then." Chris said finally. "But make sure you come back here when you've got it so your auntie Chris can have some." She smirked as Roy's excited cheering turned to a groan of annoyance. "And no strawberry sauce or any of those sugar sprinkles. Can't stand that stuff."

"Yes, auntie!" Roy called, already turning away from her. He took Knox's hand, pulling the doctor along with him as he hurried towards the ice cream van.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading, guys!<em>


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, Lucy! That costume was brand new!"

"It's not my fault! I thought I had at least another few days before it started. It's not like I did this deliberately!"

Roy poked his head around the corner of the corridor, intrigued by the dismayed wails coming from the girls' dressing rooms. He was greeted with the sight of his sister Christine, resplendent in her sparkling white showgirl costume. It was one of the new ones Madame had ordered in the week before for the Friday night dance routine, not that Roy had being paying attention, of course. Girly things were boring. Standing next to her was Lucy, looking rather less glamorous in a fluffy blue dressing gown, her face pale and a hot water bottle cradled to her stomach. Roy frowned, suddenly concerned. Was Lucy sick? Then he saw what Christine was holding and realised just how serious the situation was.

Lucy's costume was clutched in Christine's hand, the clean white fabric marred with spots of blood. In fact... Roy swallowed, embarrassment and mild horror battling for attention within him. All the blood was focussed on the... lower part of the costume, the... private bits. What could that mean? Was Lucy going to be alright? Roy hoped it wasn't catching, whatever it was.

"I feel awful..." Lucy moaned. She looked slightly nauseous, Roy realised. The mysterious illness was clearly dangerous on a number of levels.

Christine sighed, her tone softening. "Look, don't worry about it. I'll take this to the wash, it'll be fine. I'll ask Leah to fill in for you tonight; she knows the routine really well. Just make sure you pay a bit more attention next time to when your period's due."

Roy could no longer contain his curiosity. He knew he'd be in trouble if the girls told his aunt that he was up past his bed time, but they never normally did that and his concern couldn't wait until morning.

"What's wrong with Lucy? Is she ill?" The two girls started as he came running out from around the corner but he thought he saw Christine struggling to hide a smile. Roy didn't understand what was so funny. Lucy was bleeding!

"Don't worry, Roy," Christine began, trying to ruffle his hair. Roy stepped out of her reach, scowling. He hated when people did that. "She's just got her period, that's all. She'll be fine in a day or so."

"What's a period, Christine? I'm not going to catch it, am I?" Now he was definitely sure that Christine was hiding something. He saw the two girls exchange a look, Lucy bringing a hand up to her mouth to stifle laughter. What exactly was going on?

"I wouldn't worry about that, Roy-boy." Christine said, smiling down at him. "It only happens when you're older, about twelve or thirteen. You're still a few years off yet." Lucy giggled and Christine shot her a glance containing a message Roy couldn't decipher. He'd been living with girls for as long as he could remember but sometimes it seemed like he'd never understand them.

"Does it hurt?"

"Hell yes, it does..." Lucy groaned, doubling over suddenly. She really didn't look at all well. "But don't worry," She continued after a moment. "It's rarely fatal."

Roy's eyes widened. How could he have never heard of this terrible affliction before now? And how long until it claimed him too? Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps getting closer he ran away from the girls, back towards his bedroom. He didn't want his aunt to catch him up.

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><p>Knox sighed, swirling the ice around in his glass. Sarah was away visiting her mother, taking their son Danny with her, and the house had just felt far too large and empty without them. He'd walked down to Madame Christmas', risking the raucous crowds in the hope of catching up with Chris for a while, but she was nowhere to be seen. Still, it was only early evening; she was probably busy.<p>

He felt a light tap on his shoulder and turned around to see Roy standing behind him, still dressed in his school uniform from earlier in the day. He looked nervous. His eyes were downcast and when he spoke his voice was a mumble.

"Dr Knox... can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Roy, anything. What is it?" Roy seemed serious, upset even, so the doctor tried to match his tone. The boy blushed, muttering something inaudible above the murmur of voices in the bar.

"Why don't we go somewhere a bit less noisy? Then you can tell me what's bothering you." Knox finished off the rest of his drink, letting Roy lead him out of the crowded bar and into one of the more private drawing rooms. As they walked, he wondered just what the problem could be. Chris had made it clear that, as a long-standing family friend and a medical professional, she was expecting him to be the one to give 'the talk' to Roy, something that Knox was dreading, but surely that couldn't be it? Roy was still only nine, and small even for his age. But still, stranger things had happened...

Knox pulled up two armchairs, setting them close together so that they could talk privately. "Okay, Roy, what's the matter?"

"What will happen to me when I get a period?"

The doctor blinked, momentarily stunned. He certainly hadn't expected _that_ question. He was glad he'd finished his drink otherwise he was sure he'd have choked on it. What on earth had the girls been saying to him?

"Where... where did you hear about that, Roy?" he stammered out.

"Christine and Lucy... they said that it happens to people when they get older, about twelve or thirteen. They said it could be fatal." The boy narrowed his eyes, indignation entering his voice. "Were they lying?"

"Well, yes and no..." Knox replied, struggling to regain his calm. Even as a doctor, informed and objective about all aspects of human physiology, there were some things he just didn't like talking about. "It does happen about that age, but only to girls. Boys' bodies are different so they don't have periods. And they were definitely lying about it being fatal, although, apparently, it can be quite uncomfortable. But it's very normal. It's just one of the ways that girls' bodies change as they become women." Knox shifted in his seat, wishing the conversation was over. _He_ was the one who was uncomfortable here. He was glad he could put Roy's mind at ease, of course, but it seemed he just wasn't cut out for these kinds of frank talks that father figures were supposed to give.

Roy nodded, pondering his new information. He seemed remarkably happy to accept that his sisters had lied to him, all things considered. Perhaps this wasn't the first time they'd wound him up like this. Knox could see Roy getting that curious look in his eye, the one that meant he still had questions to ask. Thankfully, Chris chose that moment to poke her head through the doorway, a cloud of expensive perfume wafting in with her.

"Alright, what are you two partners in crime doing holed up in here? What exciting secrets are you keeping from me, eh?"

"Oh, nothing," Roy replied, his usual, cocky composure restored. He shot Knox a glance, grinning cheekily. "Just... manly things."

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><p><em>Thanks for reading, everyone.<em>


	3. Chapter 3

"You're... sure you didn't... do this on purpose?" The words soured on his tongue but the question had to be asked. And if the answer was yes, Knox didn't honestly think he could fault Roy for it. He'd probably do the same. Roy's eyes narrowed, disgust flitting across his face. Chris had always said Roy had a scowl that could turn blue skies grey but now there was genuine bitterness to it. The war had done that to all of them but none so much than to the idealistic young boy he had watched grow up.

"Of course not." He spat. "What kind of person do you think I am, Knox? That you think I would just abandon my men like that? I told you. It was an accident." Knox said nothing, just continued wrapping the cast around Roy's right thumb. The break was a nasty one and would take at least a few weeks to heal. No wonder the brass were suspicious. But Knox knew he could trust Roy to tell the truth. He had never been one to run away from his obligations. Roy looked away and for a few moments there was no sound in the dimly lit tent except the distant rattling of gunfire and the booming of heavy artillery. It was only after Knox had finished the cast that he felt he could broach the subject that had been worrying him ever since Roy stepped through the door earlier that evening.

"You need to take better care of your hands."

"I _told_ you Knox, I didn't do this on purpose!" Roy grimaced, trying to pull his hand out of Knox' grasp but the doctor held onto it, his grip as gentle as it could be.

"I don't mean that," Knox replied, not rising to Roy's anger. It wasn't really directed at him, anyway. "And I believe you, by the way. You know I had to ask that question, no matter what I might think. No, what I'm worried about is _this_." His latex-gloved fingers ghosted over the cracked and parched skin of Roy's palm, meeting the young man's eyes as he held up his fingers, each one of them bleeding from where the ignition cloth had rubbed them raw. The back of his hands were not much better and Roy hissed in pain as Knox's fingers brushed accidentally against his scraped knuckles.

"You can't let it get this bad." Knox continued, letting go of Roy's hand, his point made. The young man looked down, shutting his eyes but Knox could tell his words were being heard. "You aren't helping anyone by doing this. One day you're going to seize up in the middle of a battle and then what? Your men won't have anyone to protect them. I know you don't want that."

"You don't understand, Knox..." Roy muttered, so quietly the doctor could barely hear him. His other hand, still sheathed in ignition cloth, trembled by his side.

"No, I don't. But I know you can't keep on like this. So please, kid, let me help you." Roy glanced up, hesitating for a moment before pulling off the glove on his left hand. He held it out to Knox, looking away again as the doctor reached for the salve and antiseptic wipes. Knox was glad of it; he didn't want Roy to notice the tears welling up in his eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

It was normally quiet on the evening shifts. Most of the attacks- or "tactical advancements" as the brass called them- took place during the day, in the early hours of the morning. The risk of sunstroke was higher then, but the Ishvalans knew the land around them too well for a night time attack to be anything other than a suicide mission for the Amestrian soldiers. So Knox was surprised when, several hours after sunset, the canvas covering of his tent was torn open to admit a group of dirt-streaked, panicked soldiers. They were carrying someone and, from the fear in the soldiers' voices and the blood that stained their uniforms, whoever it was had been seriously injured. Without a word to Knox they lowered the man onto the operating table, a worried murmur rippling though the group as the injured soldier moaned in pain. Knox pushed past several of the young men to get to the table, gazing down in horror when he realised just who it was lying before him. Roy's uniform was soaked in blood, more welling up with every moment that passed. It didn't take long for Knox to locate the injury, a deep knife wound just below his stomach. Knox grabbed a pair of scissors and cut open Roy's jacket and shirt, pulling the layers of soaking fabric off him with as much care as possible. He forced himself to ignore Roy's agonised gasp as he pressed a wad of gauze against the injury, hoping to stem the bleeding long enough to give him time to think. The clean, white fabric turned crimson within moments and, cursing, Knox reached for fresh gauze to replace it. There was blood on Roy's lips, a shocking contrast to the white of his skin and Knox knew what that meant. The blade must have grazed Roy's stomach, making the extent of his internal injuries far greater than they had first seemed.

There was almost nothing he could do. Field medical tents were understaffed and under-resourced at the best of times and no one had expected any serious casualties this late in the day. If he'd been back in the military hospital in the capital then Roy would have had a decent chance of surviving but as it was, Knox barely even had enough anaesthetic to ensure than he would die painlessly. He blinked back tears at the thought, not wanting Roy or his men to guess the truth. It was too early to start mourning the young man before him, Knox reminded himself sternly. While Roy was still breathing, Knox would do everything he could to save him. He reached towards the table for the anaesthetic and surgical thread, grimacing as the blood on his gloves smeared across the syringe. But the glass and the red liquid brought to mind a conversation from a few days before, with another military doctor. An alchemist: Tim Marco. He'd told Knox about his research, how the military had authorised the use of Philosopher's Stones in the event of a life-threatening injury to an indispensable military personnel. Surely Roy had to count for that. The military simply wouldn't let an asset as valuable as the Flame Alchemist die from something as simple as a knife wound.

"You!" Knox grabbed the nearest soldier, spinning him round to face him. The kid stared up at him with wide blue eyes, hesitant hope still shining in their depths. "Go fetch Doctor Marco. Tell him it's urgent. Tell him-" Knox paused, knowing Marco had trusted him to keep the secrets he had revealed. "Tell him to bring what we discussed before, that someone's life depends on it. Hurry!" The young man nodded, bolting out of the door with a panicked look back at his fallen commander. Marco was quartered on the other side of the camp, less than ten minutes away if the soldier was a fast runner. But as Knox watched Roy's eyes grow dimmer and his face steadily paler, he could not say for certain if the young alchemist had even that little time left.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading, guys!<em>


	5. Chapter 5

"They told me you fainted today."

Roy glared at him, taking a long drink from his canteen before emptying the last few drops over his head. Sunset was nearly upon them but the earth still clung on to the day's heat, shimmering and oppressive despite the darkening of the sky.

"Mild sunstroke, that's all." He said at last, looking away from Knox. The doctor shook his head, getting up from his chair to crouch down next to Roy, looking the young man full in the face. Roy ducked his head from Knox' scrutiny, but not before the doctor had seen the deep shadows carved out under his bloodshot eyes or the way, up close, his skin seemed to cling to his too-prominent bones.

"No, I don't think that's all it was." Knox spoke softly, watching Roy's shoulders hunch at the words. Roy pulled off his gloves, pretending to examine his still healing hands but Knox knew he had the alchemist's full attention. "You're exhausted. I don't think you're eating properly either. You can't keep doing this, kid. What if you'd been out on the field today? You'd have been killed instantly."

"Don't you think I know that, Knox?" Roy snapped. Without warning he pushed the doctor away and stood up, striding across the floor of the small medical tent. The same tent where he had almost died, not three weeks ago. Any ordinary officer recovering from a similar injury would have been given a fortnight's leave for recuperation, Philosopher's Stone or no, but not a State Alchemist as valuable as the Flame. As soon as Roy had been able, High Command had sent him back to the front, on increasingly longer and more difficult missions. This was the first day for over two weeks that Roy had not been sent out to fight. No wonder he was exhausted. He owed the military his life now, and they had no intention of letting him forget it.

"I am very aware, thank you, of just how likely I am to die on the battlefield, _doctor_. I hardly think that there is anything that you, in your infinite experience, could tell me on the subject that I am not already quite familiar with!" Roy continued to speak, his words coming faster with every breath, an almost hysterical edge to his voice. "You _know_ how many missions I'm sent on; you know that I'm out in the field _every single day_ and yet you still try and... and _scold_ me for getting tired!" Roy was pacing now; up and down, up and down on the canvas floor, like some wounded, captive predator.

"Do you have any idea what it's like, Knox? I'm out there from sunrise to sunset, killing every Ishvalan that crosses my path- and I mean _every_ one, civilian women and children too- fucking _children_, Knox! I-" Roy drew in a sharp breath, one hand clenching by his side while the other leaned heavily on the steel operating table.

"It's all I can do to keep the soldiers under my command from getting killed, never mind looking out for myself, and sometimes I don't even manage that much. And when I'm done slaughtering everyone in sight they slap me on the back and send me off to another stretch of this god-forsaken desert to find another city to burn!" There was a wildness, an anger in his eyes that Knox had never seen before, but he was not surprised by it. He'd heard the stories as much as anyone else, had seen the flames burning in a far-off city bright enough to outshine the midday sun and he understood just how much Roy was feared, and why. He thought of the scrawny, impish young boy he'd once known, whose face had lit up at the promise of ice cream or dissolved into horrified dismay at the thought of contracting 'girly disease'. It seemed almost ridiculous that life could have brought them to this, that all the innocence and joy could have been burned out of Roy's eyes so quickly.

Roy was shockingly pale and he was shivering, despite his woollen jacket and the echoes of the day's heat. Knox took his arm and guided him with gentle movements back to his chair. Roy made no effort to shake him off, all his energy seemingly dissipated with his last, angry outburst. "I'm so tired." He sounded close to tears now, although Knox knew that Roy would never allow himself the luxury of crying. "But even when I do get time to rest, I just... can't sleep."

What he was about to suggest was highly frowned upon by the brass, Knox knew. But military regulations could go to hell for all he cared about them at that moment. Reaching into a wooden box on the table behind him, he pulled out a bottle of pills and handed them to Roy. The young man looked at them, then back to Knox, confusion written clear upon his face, along with lingering traces of indignation. "What are these?"

"Just sleeping pills. Pretty standard stuff; take one and you'll be asleep within twenty minutes."

Roy grimaced, rolling the small glass bottle around in his hand. The little white cylinders clattered and chimed as they tumbled over each other, almost indistinguishable against the clean white bandages encasing Roy's palms. "Don't be ridiculous, Knox," he said at last, but there was no real anger to his voice any more. "You know I can't have something like this. What if there was an attack in the middle of the night? I'd have to be alert for it."

"Hey, calm down, kid." Knox snorted, lowering himself back into the chair opposite Roy. His back was killing him lately. Roy Mustang might be an extreme example, but everyone was falling apart out in the desert, to one degree or another. "I said they sleeping pills, not some kind of heavy duty horse tranquiliser or whatever you might be thinking of. You'll still be able to wake up if you're needed."

After another long moment of deliberation, Roy nodded, his hand closing around the bottle of pills. "Alright." He staggered to his feet, pulling on his gloves over his bandaged hands and tucking the pill bottle into the pocket of his jacket. "I'll give them a try. I mean, things can hardly get worse than they are now, can they?"

Knox gave a weak smile in return. He watched as the young Flame Alchemist stumbled to the door, almost crippled from exhaustion and weighed down with a guilt so great Knox could not even begin to comprehend it, and he reflected that Roy was probably right. How could things possibly be worse than they already were?

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><p><em>But of course, (as anyone reading my friend mebh's amazing fic, Here Dead We Lie, knows) things always can get far, far worse. Will they, though? Who can say? :D (And if you aren't reading that fic, you totally should. Bring a boxful of tissues and a teddy bear and don't read it alone in the dark if you are the kind of person who is easily susceptible to subtle psychological terrorising and cleverly woven creepiness. Also, review. Like I, as a good friend, totally have. *ahem*) <em>

_Anyway, thanks for reading, guys! x_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: This is the last chapter in this fic, hoped you've enjoyed reading it and thanks to everyone who reviewed (particularly to the lovely mebh, of course, and to Kasumin, whose enthusiasm for this fic has been a great motivator). I realised, while flicking through volume 15, that my timeline in this fic doesn't match up with what happened in canon exactly... but I also decided I didn't care. Enjoy the final chapter! _

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><p>"Dr Knox?" The man who opened the door gave a perfunctory smile, gesturing for the doctor to enter the room. Knox accepted the offered handshake, noting the softness of the soldier's palm. This was not a man used to working in the field. "Please, have a seat. My name is Lieutenant Taylors. No doubt you're wondering the purpose of this meeting?"<p>

Knox nodded, saying nothing. 'Wondering' was putting it lightly. Ever since he'd been recalled back to headquarters in the Ishvalan capital he'd grown increasingly uneasy about the reason for his transfer. It had almost been a relief when he'd received the summons the morning from military high command. Whatever it was, it would be better to get it over with quickly.

Taylors smiled again, seeming unfazed by Knox's silence or his decision to remain standing. The lieutenant pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, straightening a pile of folders on his desk before continuing. "The fact is, my division-" he coughed before continuing. "That is to say, General Frost's division- have noticed your exemplary work in the field, particularly your unusually low casualty incidence. The general had me do some research into your career and we were very impressed with what we found. Your publication record is excellent and just the thing to convince General Frost that you were exactly the kind of person we want to have on board!"

Knox blinked, feeling a headache beginning to form behind his temples. His discomfort about the meeting was getting rapidly worse as he began to suspect just where the conversation was going. He had heard rumours, of course... but surely he couldn't be expected to...

"On board for what?" He asked. He found himself wishing he'd accepted the offer of a seat before, but it was too late now. He didn't want to show any weakness in front of this man.

The lieutenant treated him to another broad, cold eyed smile. "The military's research, of course. Our division is recruiting all of the military physicians serving in Ishval with research experience to contribute their expertise towards our projects. Projects that will benefit the military and, by extension of course, the whole of medical science."

The unease he'd been feeling solidified at the lieutenant's words, petrifying and settling into a heavy lump of dread inside him. He knew exactly what the soldier was talking about now. Every doctor serving in Ishval had heard of those research projects and every one lived in fear of being chosen to take part. The rumours were horrifying, almost defying belief. Stories of human experimentation on Ishvalan captives, of alchemy being used as an instrument of torture. How could he have been so stupid to not have realised what was going on?

"My apologies, but I'm afraid I can't join your division." His eyes focused on a crack in the concrete wall just to the left of Taylors' head but he knew his words were not being well received. Some part of him knew it was foolishness, but he had to try. "My medical skills are needed out in the field."

"Ah, but come now, Doctor!" Taylors sat back in his chair, his voice adopting what he no doubt considered to be a jovial tone. "Think of all the good you could do! With all these resources at your disposal you have an opportunity to make unprecedented advances in the field of medicine. Your research could save countless lives!" The smile slid from the soldier's face without warning and he leaned forward over the desk. "Besides, I should hardly need to remind you, Dr Knox that this is not a request, it is an order. Failure to assist in this project to the best of your ability will be considered as dereliction of duty which, in wartime, as I'm sure you are aware, carries a penalty of death."

_Death_... he thought of Sarah waiting in their too-large house in northern Central for him to come home, her hair streaked prematurely grey with worry. He thought of his son, Danny, only eighteen and still desperate for his father's approval. A final, unexpected, image appeared in his mind; the dark, haunted eyes of a boy who had been forced to grow up far too soon. A boy he needed to stay alive to protect. He couldn't abandon any of them.

"Alright," Knox heard himself say. "What do I need to do?"

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><p>The mid morning sun was already baking the earth when Knox was shown into the building that had once been Ishval's largest hospital. Yet deep within the concrete shell of the once-proud structure the air held no hint of the day's warmth and the only light was the dim flickering of failing gas lamps- even electricity was a precious commodity here. Knox walked through the shadowed corridors, a grim faced, unspeaking soldier on either side. The men who'd been chosen to escort him to his new workplace were young; he realised, and looked almost as uncomfortable as he felt. Lieutenant Taylor's words echoed in his head as he walked; the only clue as to what he might be expecting when he reached the lab. "<em>We have assigned you a project relevant to your experience as a surgeon and intensive care specialist. As with all our research, you will be working closely with a State alchemist, who will have joint control over the direction of the project. All the details will be provided for you when you meet your assigned alchemist tomorrow,"<em> Taylors had smiled at this point, a gloating, malicious curve of his lips that had made Knox want to punch him. _"Although I believe the nature of your work should be immediately apparent upon seeing them."_

Knox had puzzled over those words all night yet he was no closer to understanding who the lieutenant might be referring to. Clearly the alchemist would be someone well known, or at least known to him, with alchemy that could have biological applications. Dr Marco, perhaps? He had been very secretive about his Philosopher's Stone research... could there be a darker secret behind that? Or maybe Gran? Silver? He only hoped it wasn't someone like Kimbley. They reached the end of the corridor and one of the soldiers pushed open the door to the laboratory. There was a figure standing on the other side, a slight young man with dark hair and suddenly the meaning behind Taylor's mocking smile became all too apparent.

_No, no, no... please, no! _ Knox' thoughts were a panicked blur as he stood in the doorway, unable to move. He gripped the doorframe, struggling to remain composed in front of the soldiers. _This can't be happening... not him! Anyone else... _

Roy turned around and, for the tiniest instant, Knox could see the same horror and disbelief flash across his face. His eyes widened and he took a step backwards and then it was gone, all trace of feeling wiped clean in a single breath. Knox had never before seen someone shut down their emotions so quickly or so completely. Roy looked at him, his black eyes empty of all warmth, or any sign of recognition. It was terrifying. Knox had known, of course, that the innocent boy he had watched grow up was long gone, that Roy had killed countless thousands; that on the battlefield he was described as being more like a machine than a man. He had known all this and yet he had never understood what it meant, until that moment.

The soldiers at the door saluted him and Roy returned the gesture with mechanical precision, dismissing them without a word. Knox finally managed to shake himself out of his frozen state, moving to stand next to Roy by the desk. "I suppose you've read the file for this project?" Roy asked, not meeting his eyes.

"What? No..." He still couldn't quite believe any of this was happening. Surely the world could not be so cruel? "Look, kid... I...What's going on here?" Roy looked up from examining the file on the desk and the doctor's breath caught at the anger trapped inside his gaze. It was easy now to understand why he was so feared.

"What's going on here?" Roy's eyes darted towards the door and he lowered his voice, leaning closer towards Knox. "We are conducting a military research project, that's what's going on, and as such you will conduct yourself in a professional manner!" He slid the file across the desk, opening it to the first page. Knox scanned it, feeling sick as he realised just what they would be expected to do. "The aim of the research is to develop a more effective way of treating burn injuries, comparing the recovery of subjects treated using current methods to more recent medical proposals." Roy continued, walking away from the desk. "I've drawn up a research plan in advance. You may review it and make any changes as you see fit, of course, although I believe my proposal allows for the smallest possible sample size for each demographic group while still retaining statistical accuracy. Once you have familiarised yourself with the details of the file, we shall begin with the negative control group. Do you have any objections?"

Knox's fingernails were digging into his palms, his eyes blurring over the details of the subjects... _people_... they would be experimenting on. He could hardly understand the words being spoken to him but he knew he needed to give some kind of response. "No, Major Mustang," he could hardly believe how little his voice was shaking. "No objections."

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><p>No day had ever seemed so long, or so filled with horrors. Towards the end Knox found himself wishing for the moment when he would become immune to it all; when he could think of their victims as simply 'subjects' and burning people alive as nothing more than a necessary sacrifice in the name of science. But although the revulsion he felt might eventually lose its edge as the days and weeks dragged by, he knew he would never stop hating himself for the part he had played. And Mustang... he didn't know what to think of Mustang any more.<p>

The final subject examined and catalogued, Knox peeled off his bloodied surgeon's gloves and hung up his lab coat, ready for his return the next day. Stripped the armour of his profession, Knox' clothes and skin were spotlessly clean, yet he knew the memories of what he had done could not be removed so easily. Leaving the lab, Knox walked over to the washroom down the corridor, needing to cool down after working in the stifling atmosphere Mustang's flames had left behind. He regretted the decision as soon as he pushed open the door.

Mustang was hunched over a sink at the far end of the room, his lab coat lying, stained and blackened, in a heap on the floor. He was scrubbing his hands in a fevered, monotonous way that told the doctor he'd been doing it for quite some time, the water running red as Mustang tore open blisters and abrasions that had taken Knox hours to treat. His shoulders were shaking with near silent sobs and, for a moment, some part of Knox ached to go to him and offer comfort, the way he had so many times in the past. But then he remembered the steadiness of Mustang's hand as he raised it to snap and the overpowering scent of burnt flesh when each subject was brought to him for analysis. The same scent that still clung to Mustang- to both of them, now. There could be no comfort in any of this.

Knox walked over to the line of sinks, choosing one as far away from Mustang as possible. The young man glanced up as he heard the doctor's footsteps, their eyes meeting before Knox had a chance to look away. Mustang had clearly tried to wash off the grease and soot that covered his face but had achieved little more than to spread the grime around. He looked almost inhuman, red-rimmed, desperate eyes staring out from a filthy face and blood dripping from his palms. There was nothing left of the boy Knox had known. Knox turned on the tap, splashing the lukewarm water in his face and letting it run over his hands. A shuddering intake of breath from across the room caught his attention but he refused to acknowledge it.

"Knox," Mustang's voice was almost a whisper yet it seemed to echo against the concrete walls. "I..." His breath caught and Knox could see him biting his lip, struggling to regain his composure. Knox couldn't imagine what Mustang could have to say to him yet he knew whatever it was would be more than he could bear at that moment. Without speaking a word he turned and walked out of the room. As he walked away he could hear Mustang start crying again and he quickened his pace, letting the sound of his footsteps drown out the sobs of the young man he had once loved.

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><p><em>Thanks for reading! x<em>


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